


Long Gone, Not Forgotten

by helloshepard



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Knowing the pair, Kasumi thinks, they would have wanted a private service, away from prying eyes.But knowing their popularity, that simply wasn’t going to happen. Shepard and Garrus, married at last.





	Long Gone, Not Forgotten

Knowing the pair, Kasumi thinks, they would have wanted a private service, away from prying eyes. 

But knowing their popularity, that simply wasn’t going to happen. 

The master thief idles at the bar, fingers trailing along the rim of her glass. Without looking, she reaches her boot out, hooking her leg around her partner’s knee. Jacob only smiles, brushes his hand against her wrist. 

“You haven’t stolen anything yet.” 

“Yet.” Kasumi retorts. “Party isn’t over yet.” 

Jacob shifts, uncomfortable in formal wear. Blue jacket, gold lines sewn into the fabric. A flower—a rose, bright red against dark fabric, tucked into the chest pocket. 

Kasumi leans forward. Slim fingers tug at Jacob’s collar. The man reaches up, slips his hand under her hood. Feels the scars at the base of her skull, then pulls her in for a kiss. 

Soft. Warm. 

She smiles. Pulls away, tucks a gold band lifted from some unwitting human into Jacob’s pocket. 

* * *

Someone has added a mod to the climate control. It sends out low-freq EM waves, nearly palpable in their effect on the crowd. The air hums with excess electricity and the crowd nearly roars as the music changes. 

The couch is made to seat five, but Tali manages to take up most of the space on her own. She is already drunk, but still sipping on a drink, twirling a straw when she notices its bright colors and curled design.  

Legion analyzes its contents. One part Red Jenny. Three parts Drossix. 

Tali puts the drink down, rolls over. Her head rests in Legion’s lap and she pulls one of the geth’s hands into her own, proceeding to examine its hands with clumsy familiarity. 

“So…soft. I like it.” 

Another wave pulses through the room. Legion shakes off the irritation to its sensors, and Tali swears softly under her breath. She staggers upright, nearly falls back into Legion’s lap. Pulls at his hands. 

“Dance with me.” 

The geth complies. Downloads a dozen instructional videos. Learns to ‘dance’ in the time it takes it to stand. 

Tali pulls Legion away from the couch. The geth follows, tries to copy her movements, but Tali has ignored all the steps in the vids. This is something entirely new. Creation. 

Admiration is a foreign concept, but the geth follows it nonetheless. Legion watches Tali dance. Steps forward, then back, then forward again. Pushes her hands down as Tali tries to take off her helmet. 

She protests, moves instead to bump her helmet against the geth’s optic. 

“Why can’t I kiss you?” 

The song changes. It’s slow. Steady. Tali giggles as they very nearly hit Shepard-commander and Vakarian.

Legion wonders how it feels to laugh. 

* * *

A crowd of humans who’ve had a bit too much to drink swarm past. Shouts of “Shepard!” and slaps on their shoulders as Shepard rolls her eyes. 

“Did you invite them?” 

“I did not.” Garrus’s hand finds her waist. “I told them squad and crew only.” 

“Mm.” Behind them, Taylor and Goto are making a mess of the bar. The thief is climbing into Jacob’s lap, knocking over glasses and flowers indiscriminately. 

“They have the right idea.” 

Shepard laughs. “It’s not their wedding.” 

Garrus huffs, takes a drink from a tray and downs it in one long sip.

“What do you think it’d take for us to end this party a few hours early?” 

Shepard smiles. If only. 

“Another Reaper invasion, Cerberus attacking again…” 

“True.” The turian downs another drink. The music changes, shifts from gently sensual to wild, uncontrolled. “Dance with me?”

“You must be more drunk than you look.” 

“Me?” Mandibles twitch. Amused. “Never.” 


End file.
